The first time my husband spanked me, I was utterly shocked.
We were dating at the time, snuggled up on the couch, watching a movie, and he had his arm around me. I said something snarky to him, and with no warning, he flipped me over and whack! Spanked me.
Now, this wasn’t a “bad girl” spanking. It was a teasing swat from a guy who was hot for me. But I sort of groaned out loud and said, “Oh my God that totally just turned me on” because holy hell, did it ever.
Naturally, he was all over that and said, “Is that right? Then let the spankings commence,” flipping me over and landing a few more good swats.
I still remember that line fifteen years later, because it was that memorable to me. Now, my husband is a natural spanker. He spanked a girl before I even met him (they were playing a board game when they were dating, and she wouldn’t stop taunting him, so he put her right across his knee!), and spanking me came quite naturally to him. I still remember when we were dating, he bought a wooden spoon in a kitchen supply store and kept spanking me with it when we got home. It was nothing like a full on spanking, just a few whacks here and there. But he remembers none of this! I do, though, because when you’re into spanking? You don’t forget things like that.
But his spanking me was short-lived. I didn’t know that there were good reasons why I was attracted to being spanked, and I didn’t know I wasn’t alone. So finally, one day, I asked him to stop. I told him I thought it was weird that I got turned on when he spanked me. So he agreed. And I was left alone with my fantasies, thinking that I was the only full-grown woman who found this attractive.
Fast forward ten years with nary so much as a teasing swat. By chance one day, after a discussion with Maisy no less, I stumbled across a review of Fifty Shades. In that review, someone mentioned “real life dominants and submissives.”
I googled. And a whole new world was opened to me.
I read, and I read, and I read…not Fifty Shades. I read about women who liked being spanked by men. I read about dominance and submission. It rocked my world. I had no idea that people were into this at all. I spent hours in secret, reading fictional stories and downloading books. I was floored. For so long, I thought I was crazy, and didn’t know that people were into this at all. I spent all this time turned on like I’d never been turned on before!
And I knew I wanted my husband to spank me. But how could I ask him? It sounded so weird. Who did that? I was completely shy in bed, and wasn’t into kink at all. We were straight up vanilla back then. I thought that you were either into missionary vanilla, or chains and whips and leather. I had no idea there was anything in between.
But I couldn’t hold it back any longer. I had these secret fantasies and desires, but I didn’t want to spend my nights reading fiction. I wanted this for real.
So finally, one night, when the kids were asleep, I crawled up onto his chest. “I want to play a game,” I said.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” he asked.
“Let’s play fantasy swap.” He was interested, so I asked him to go first. “You tell me your fantasy, and I’ll tell you mine.”
He went first. And then it was my turn.
I was nervous. Would he laugh? Would he really know what I meant? Would he think I was crazy? Encouraged by the fact that he spanked me when we were dating, and spurred on by how desperately I wanted a spanking, I pushed myself to tell him.
Heart pounding, I lifted myself up a bit and whispered into his ear, “I want you to spank me.”
He smiled. “You want me to spank you?”
I swallowed hard, bit my lip and nodded. “Yes,” I whispered. “I’ve been reading some stories and… it sounds really, really hot.”
He chuckled at my eagerness, then sobered. When he does something, he wants to do it right. “Over my lap? With my hand?”
Just hearing those words come out of his mouth caused me to gasp. I felt like someone had lit a fire under me. Mouth dry, heart pounding, I nodded. “Yes. Please. I want it so badly. But it has to be a real spanking. It has to hurt, not a joke.”
He was completely sober at this point. All humor gone from his face, his voice lowered and he said, “Get over my lap.” I obeyed, shaking with excitement and nervousness.
He stripped me. And then he spanked me.
He was a natural. He knew exactly how to do it, just the right amount of pain and pleasure. When he was done, I was sore. And I was so ready for him. We made love, and it was the most amazing, intense, incredible experience we had ever had. And when I settled back into his arms after I climaxed, I wept.
“Are you crying?” he asked, and I could only nod as I cried, and I cried, and I cried. I had never cried when we made love before, not once, not even on our honeymoon, our very first time.
“I don’t know why I’m crying,” I said, completely shocked at the intensity of the feelings that consumed me. “I just feel so emotional right now.”
He held me close, and for the first time, he did what he would eventually do many, many times again. He told me it was okay. He told me he understood. He told me he loved me.
I fell asleep next to him. And the next day, I looked at him differently.
He seemed somehow…stronger. More authoritative. Sexier.
And that was how it all began.